As he comes close to me to place the martini down on a napkin provided by the club, he softly grazes my cheek with his lips.
“Are you old enough to order that drink for yourself, Lucia?” he whispers into my ear, before running the tip of his tongue along my ear lobe.
I inhale sharply and shake my head without hesitation. He blows out a large breath and takes his seat immediately to my left, essentially keeping me disguised from the rest of the club. The only other focal point, besides himself, Camden has given me is the window that displays frantic families, pissed off wives or husbands, seasoned business people, and clueless elderly transported back and forth on the airport caddies. Everyone looks so lost. I suddenly feel found.
I briefly wonder how many students are stuck in the airport. Do they get a hot pilot to warm up with, too? I decide to ignore all of my thoughts of those people in the airport, other students, and my troubles of getting home. I let Camden in.
“Does my age bother you?” I ask, taking a small sip off the martini, which I decide that I do, indeed, like.
“Yes,” he says huskily. “It bothers me very much.”
Camden rests back in his chair and takes a long pull off of his beer.
I look at the martini, pick it up, down it, and start to collect my things. I will not be a nuisance on the day of all nuisances. I have a few books to read, texts to respond to, and people to call. This guy isn’t worth anymore of my time if I am not the appropriate age for his attention. Fuck it. I can dream about the idea of this later. His firm grip on my wrist startles me back to the current moment. I look up to him with a questioning expression.
“I am bothered, Lucia. My dick is so bothered by your age that I’m not sure I can put up the pretense of dinner and drinks before I take you from behind,” he firmly states, his teeth clenching as tight as a vice grip and his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. The guy can’t even swallow properly he is so turned on.
“What made you think I want dinner and drinks before? You only proposed one thing, Camden. I didn’t have any other expectations when I came with you.” The smile I want to unleash stays hidden behind my pretense of being calm and untouchable.
He stares at me, searching for the answer that I’ve already given him. I won’t tell him again that I want to have sex with him. I nod back in the terminal. I came with him to this lounge area. I’ve answered all of his questions. Now, he has to understand through my body language, the obvious declaration of my desire. A lengthy silence passes between us until I can’t take it any longer.
“I would like another martini, Camden. If you plan to have me from behind, I would like at least one more martini,” I say. I feel like a slut. I must be a slut. One thing is for sure – no one will ever know about this. Never.
His nod is accompanied by a beautiful, sexual smile, as he finally realizes where I will allow the night to go.
***
That was the Christmas I became two people. New York was snowed in for days and days. There were no airplanes, no busses, and no traveling for all of those stuck in the city. Camden and I were just two people out of millions that didn’t get the pleasure of spending Christmas with their families.
Despite being snowed in, I received the best Christmas presents I’ve ever been given. After three nights of fucking like teenagers who just lost their virginity and having no idea what the word satiated means, I take advantage of all the luxuries the Waldorf Astoria provided.
Each morning, I awake to Camden’s mouth on my generous breasts and the heat of his pleasure captivated by my thighs. He bathes me, feeds me a delicious breakfast, and then makes all the necessary arrangements we need every day. Not once did he complain about the obvious thousands of dollars he was spending on our time together. I thank him multiple times with both my words and the mouth the words came out of. He has a smile on his face every time he looks at me.
It was a beautiful time together, something I would never forget. I grew to love New York over our time together. Somehow, Camden shows me everything I was missing about New York. We never offer up much information about one another, but I do suspect that he has a girlfriend or someone that he is seeing from the few times I happen to walk by while he talks on the phone. He never lowers his voice or offers me bull shit. We both know that when our planes take off to different locations, we will never see each other again.
The last afternoon we have together, he prepares a light dinner, arranges for a couple’s massage in the suite, and surprises me with a beautiful Tiffany diamond ring. When I told them it was too much and I couldn’t accept it, he places his palm over mine and says he wants a part of himself to always be with me.
Camden taught me a lot about my body, about light bondage, and about what pleases a man to no end. He taught me that if I were to open myself to up to men, I would be well taken care of. When I was finally able to get on a plane to Florida, in first class, thanks to Camden, I thought about our time together and what I want for my future.
We decide on a quick goodbye, and even thought I know I will never see him again, I know that not only do I want to be the best I can be at the flute and in business, but I will need to live the fantasy world that Camden introduced me to. I promise myself that no matter how accomplished, popular, or wealthy I become in the future, I would want days like those spent with Camden to be a part of my lifestyle as well.
It took me many years to finally find myself in that happy abyss of diamonds, first class, and luxury. Sure, I could afford it on my own with my own thriving, multi-billion dollar company I was the CEO of, but it was much more meaningful coming from beautiful, wealthy men who saw true physical beauty in me. It was so refreshing to have both lives. I could be two people.
Luca and Lucia were both me.
Both of her.
It never hurt anyone until one day when it nearly destroys everything.
ONE
Ten Years Later
If you asked me ten years ago if I would be living in one of the coldest regions in the United States, my eighteen year old self probably would’ve bet you one thousand dollars - a lot of money for me at that time - that I’d decide on sunny Florida or Georgia. My life, in those innocent, barely adult eyes, catered to my future mid-level business and marketing position, my doting husband, and my adorable twins. One boy and one girl, of course.
Now that I am twenty-eight years old, I would be out one thousand dollars, a lovely husband, and the two rug rats, because today, I am trying to beat the low temperature of fifteen degrees Fahrenheit by asking my driver, Colin, to get the Lincoln ready an extra half hour early for my half mile commute to work. I am such a sucker for wealth.
My Louis Vuitton clad feet take the mere fifteen steps from the car to the front entrance of the Willis Tower, better known as the Sears Tower to most of America – damn buy outs – in downtown Chicago, but fuck it, if those weren’t the worst fifteen steps of my day.
Despite the gray day, and Colin’s announcement that snow was predicted later in the evening, I still wear my dark sunglasses through the beautifully luxurious lobby of the Willis and while I ride the elevator straight up eighty-five floors to my office.